


To Love Again

by seaweediscool



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fairies, Nymphs & Dryads, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 03:53:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaweediscool/pseuds/seaweediscool
Summary: Morgana washes away the thoughts of those who were once so dear to her.





	To Love Again

She has failed and she's alone once again, stumbling through the forest, head turning quickly over her shoulder afraid that Arthur and his men will be along to capture her. Her dress pulls at roots and brambles but still she runs onward until, until...

The ground is suddenly much closer.

The Lady Morgana collapses, and then, and then.

Nothing. For a while.

In her fever, Morgana thinks she sees a little white dragon who gifts her back her magic and heals her of her most serious wounds.

She comes to comprehensive thought slowly. Then, she sits up, amazed that her wounds are now a mere scratch that are not painful. Then she sees the dragon perched on a rock, pecking curiously at a stick. It stops pecking when it sees her looking at it. It smiles; if the dragon equivalent of smiling is bearing it's teeth and widening it's eyes.

"Thank you," Morgana says.

The dragon just shifts its body from side to side in what must be dragon for joyous laughter.

"Do you have a name?" Morgana asks, lifting her hand towards the dragon.

"Aithusa," it chirrups and jumps onto the outstretched hand.

"Aithusa," she echoes then smiles.

Aithusa wraps it's tail around Morgana's arm. Its claws are firm in their grip but they are comforting somehow, almost grounding. The dragon nuzzles at Morgana's skin and her heart breaks for the creature - her father and brother would condemn such beings, but she will care for it and love it because that is what compassion is. That is what loyalty to one's kind is.

"Is there a stream nearby?" Morgana says.

Aithusa nods and points its head to the right. Morgana stands and follows the dragon's instructions, coming to a clearing soon enough that low and behold has a stream running alongside it. She has been here before. She knows in the same way she knew that she had magic. In the same way she knows that she belongs on the throne of Camelot.

She was a child when she'd come here. An outing with her true father, with Gorlois, before he had died and she'd gone to live in the citadel. Gorlois had lifted her up high above his head, had chased her through the trees, had thrown her a sword and battled. He'd called her a princess and Morgana wonders if he had known. He must have done.

She had come here later as well. With Arthur and Gwen and Merlin when they hadn't known the betrayals. A picnic away from duty and status where she had been free to kiss Merlin on his blushing cheek as Arthur had done the same to Gwen. They were all so innocent back then, so full of love. That innocence had been poisoned and she could lay the blame on all three of them. Could lay the blame on herself if she so wanted.

Discarding her dress and small clothes, she enters the stream, confident that Aithusa will guard and warn if any danger should arise. Somehow she knows that nothing can harm her here. She had felt that way with Gorlois and Arthur and Gwen and Merlin when she was here before.

It is cold at first but then her magic calls to the water nymphs who respond surprisingly, and heat up the water to the temperature that she likes. To the temperature that Gwen had always managed when she had prepared her lady's baths. Morgana knows Gwen will be queen soon and resentment quickly fills her. She had loved all of them.

Morgana sits in the stream, lets her legs float about for a moment and then firmly lowers them until the air bubbles stop. She leans back until her ears are submerged, hair floating out behind her, grime washing downstream. She watches it, the little bits of dirt, of blood, that come rushing out from every crevice. The water nymphs help and they wash over her, reaching into every nook and cranny until all she can hear is her breath and the steady thumping of her heart beneath the water.

She lays there longer than she should.

But then she raises herself up, standing only when she needs to, letting the water drop off her skin. Letting the rivulets find a path through the gap in her breasts, towards her stomach, and then down her calf until they meet back in the stream, following its course to the sea many miles away. Morgana wishes the stream luck and the stream does so back, gurgling its praise.

Morgana steps out and then feels wood sprites dance across her back, weaving together, until they meet at her collarbones, transforming into black cloth, softer than her previous dress. The sprites reach down to her feet, cladding them in moss that hardens into a shoe. They reach round again to her back, securing the lace there, so reminiscent of Gwen and her sure touches. So reminiscent of Merlin and his soft, pliant hands when the servants had exchanged masters for the night.

Her gut clenches. She wills the thought of Merlin away, presses his name to the wind and allows the fairies there to whisk it away. She was loyal to him, once upon a time.

The fairies in the wind repay the favour of Merlin's name with a sweet caress at her face and then reaching up to the tangles of her hair, smoothing them out, until they are glossy. Two or three at a time braid certain strands while others employ the help of the wood nymphs and wrap moss around certain tendrils until a green cloth lies there. Others are artistic and paint designs onto alabaster cheeks and eyes and ruby red lips.

Morgana sighs into their touch until they are gone, leaving only her and Aithusa. She reaches out her arm again and Aithusa flutters its wings and secures tail and claws. She walks into the forest and leaves the clearing, unknowing of what will come to pass and who had hatched her dragon from its egg.

Still.

At least she loves something once again.

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of writing my ACBB fic of which I'm a solid 5k words behind schedule, I decided to write about Morgana. Oh well. 
> 
> Feedback welcome! 
> 
> Tumblr: seaweed-is-cool


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